Forbidden Sister (The Forbidden 1)

I imagined that inventing so much about herself when she spoke to people other than her clients and Mrs. Brittany made it difficult for Roxy ever to grow close with anyone. That was why she had no real friends and, as long as she was doing what she was doing, never would have any. I had to be careful about these thoughts and conclusions. Roxy was as proud and as defiant as ever. She wouldn’t tolerate anyone feeling sorry for her, especially me. She had made that clear today.

The following morning, she took me to school so she could meet Dr. Sevenson and establish herself as my guardian. She had the limousine available to her. When we arrived, we turned a lot of heads and, as Mama would say, set tongues clapping. Roxy tried to look like someone’s guardian, I know, but despite our age difference, she still looked as if she could be the one registering to attend high school. She was in her black fur-lined coat and hat, with her hair in an updo, and very tight slacks with thick high-heeled black shoes. She did restrain herself when it came to her makeup, but Roxy didn’t really need much makeup, anyway. Heads continued to turn our way when we entered the building and started for the principal’s office.

Our principal, Dr. Sevenson, always struck me as being quite aloof. Everything that had to be done on a day-to-day basis seemed to be delegated to someone else, such as Dr. Walter, Mrs. Morris, or one of the teachers. Most of Dr. Sevenson’s time was spent in public relations, getting funding and new students for the school. She was a stout woman, with teased dark brown hair that looked as if it had been styled and sprayed twenty years ago. The joke was that there were bedbugs living in it. She had a clipped way of speaking, especially if she was speaking to someone from whom she didn’t expect much in the way of funding or anything else. I don’t think I had spoken a half-dozen words to her or she to me since I had begun attending the school.

Her secretary opened the door of her office for us and stepped away, smiling as if she had accomplished some great feat. Roxy barely glanced at her.

Dr. Sevenson looked up from her papers and sat back. “Please,” she said, nodding at the chairs in front of her desk.

We sat.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother,” she told me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“It takes great strength to continue doing what would certainly have made your parents proud, but I’m sure you will continue to do so. At least, I hope so.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“What can I do for you?” she asked Roxy.

“I’m Roxanne Wilcox. I will be Emmie’s guardian. I was told I had to inform the school of our situation and leave contact information. I was also told that we had to see you personally, so I made this appointment.”

“Right. Well, that is the protocol. Where are you and Emmie residing?”

“We’re at the Hotel Beaux-Arts.”

“Hotel?”

“I have an apartment there.”

“I see.”

From the way she was scrutinizing Roxy, I wondered if she had picked up on the student gossip and knew exactly who and what Roxy was.

“There is no other relative to take on this responsibility?” she asked. “One with a real home, perhaps?”

Roxy bristled. “Why would we even think of another relative? I’m her sister, and I’m well over eighteen. We do have a real home. I said I had an apartment, not a hotel room in some fleabag joint, either.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Sevenson said, not even blinking at Roxy’s indignation. “We usually don’t have very much to do with social services, the child-protection agencies, and the like. Our students come from well-to-do families, but when something like this occurs, there could be a lot more scrutiny. I do appreciate the recent family tragedies Emmie has experienced, but—”

“We both experienced,” Roxy interrupted.

“Yes, well, as I was saying, I appreciate the pain and suffering, but we do hope your sister’s admirable behavior and good schoolwork will not change dramatically for the worse. That could lead to more scrutiny and, as I said, not simply by me or the guidance counselor.”

“Are you threatening us? She’s paid up here for the remainder of the year, isn’t she?” Roxy asked sharply.

“Yes, she’s fine, and I’m not threatening you. I’m just doing my job and informing you that we have high expectations for our students, both in their academic behavior and in their social behavior. I would tell this to any new parents or guardians when they brought in their child for enrollment.”

“I doubt you would say it the same way,” Roxy pursued.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but that is just the way it is.”

She turned to me.

“Please come see me if you have any difficulties, Emmie, any at all,” she added, looking pointedly at Roxy. “I don’t have the forms for you to fill out here.”

She pressed her intercom to tell her secretary to provide them for Roxy.